


Take Me Home

by modestlobster



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Kingsman: The Golden Circle
Genre: And yet, Country Roads, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, First Time Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Historical Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin, Implied/Referenced Character Death, John Denver - Freeform, M/M, Magical Realism, Merlin (Kingsman) Lives, Merlin singing, Oral Sex, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Swearing, Threesome - M/M/M, and a Ouija Board, or maybe just drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modestlobster/pseuds/modestlobster
Summary: You could say it's been a bit tense between Harry and Eggsy since Merlin’s been gone. But when an unexpected opportunity presents itself -- giving them the chance to see their wizard again -- a proper goodbye is the only thing on all their minds.





	Take Me Home

“Harry…?” Eggsy called out anxiously, trying to close the door on the shit of a blustery, wet grey London afternoon, at the same time kicking his shoes off in the front hall of the flat, attempting to shed his overcoat without, fuck, dripping _every_ -fuckin’-where.

 _“Mm.”_ was the weary response from somewhere in the flat. Like kitchen-ish direction, if you had to guess.

They met in the lounge; Eggsy slumping down on the sofa, unceremoniously dumping a decent sized parcel on the coffee table; and Harry strolling in -- two generous tumblers of whisky at the ready.

“Harry -- you believe in ghosts?” Eggsy spit the question out, knowing it was as fuckin’ ridiculous as it was urgent to get an answer.

Harry handed him a drink, “We’re all ghosts of things we could have been.”

“No, I mean, like for real. Ghosts. Spirits from --” Eggsy took a swig from the glass, and instantly pulled a face. “-- from fuckin’ beyond, or _wherever_ . And what is _this?_ Not our usual.”

“No.” Harry agreed simply, on all accounts.

“Well, look, I don’t believe it either, but I was just goin’ for a wander, you know, and d’you know where I ended up?”

“One-Ninety-Three Kensington Church Street?” Harry sat, perched on the arm of the sofa, and took a nip from his tumbler.

Eggsy blinked slowly. Fuckin’ Harry Hart. Answering rhetorical fuckin’ questions with the actual literaphorical fuckin’ answers. “Aw, _fuck,_ Harry, fuck me…”

A flat smile played briefly over Harry’s lips, then he quite pointedly looked at the wrapped parcel with the shop name and location clearly printed on it.

 _“Little shit.”_ Eggsy muttered into his glass, giving it another go. “Yeah, alright. So, it’s called ‘The Wizard’s Wares’ --”

Harry continued reading the label aloud: “ _‘Purveyors of fine toys and games’,_ yes. Now, let’s get on to where you tell me something I don’t know already.”

Harry was being way more fuckin’ difficult after what’d happened in Cambodia. Yeah, _everything_ had been more fuckin’ difficult since ‘Poppy Land’. Since they lost Merlin.

Saved the world, bruv, but what does it matter, right?

Eggsy pulled the parcel off the table, distractedly picking at the corners of the paper. “I thought I’d ended up there for, like, a reason, you know? ‘Cause there was this big fuck-off mannequin, flowing grey robes, in the window with a sign like, ‘By Merlin’s fuckin’ Beard, Behold Our fuckin’ fantastic fuckin’ Bargains’ --”

“Sounds a bit more High Street than Church…” Harry usually tried his best to keep his tongue these days; while his own grief manifested in bouts of objectifying silence, Eggsy’s obviously manifested as limited strings of four-letter-derived words. But the tedium and vulgarity were wearing on him.

Eggsy ignored it. “-- and you know where his fuckin’ wand was pointing?” Before Harry could try to answer, Eggsy shook the parcel for emphasis. “Right at this, Harry. Right at this.” Eggsy tore the edge of the wrapping, and pulled the flimsy cardboard game box out.

The steady calm in Harry’s voice belied his brief revisitation to whichever stage of grief included anger. “You wish to tell me that you believe Merlin…‘s… mm, _spirit,_ wanted you to drop 20 quid on a Ouija board, Eggsy dear.”

“Well it was kinda 30 quid -- on sale -- but…”

Harry stood up abruptly, retreating to the writing desk in the corner by the window. His glass was suddenly quite empty.

“But yeah… So.” Eggsy was quiet for a minute. “Just thought it was something, you know. Just to try.”

“Well, _try_ to finish your drink,” Harry intoned, not turning away from the paperwork he had pulled out of the drawer. “It’s an expensive vintage.”

“Tastes _shit._ ” But Eggsy did as he was told… All in one go, bruv -- just get it over with. Then he opened up the game, and put the board and the -- what the _fuck_ is a _planchette_ \-- on the table, with its cheap notepad and pencil beside that, and he just sat and stared at it all like the foreign objects they were.

“I’d do anythin’, honestly,” Eggsy tried again at explaining himself. “To bring Merlin back; give him life. Do right by 'im.”

“Would you?” Harry offered, a simple question. Or, perhaps it was a challenge…

“Give ‘im a proper goodbye, at least. Yeah.” Eggsy rubbed his nose and sniffed nonchalantly. “Tell him how much we love him.”

Harry grit his teeth at that; and Eggsy heard it.

“Um,” Eggsy swallowed, reaching two suddenly-trembling fingers to the game’s plastic planch-- eh, you know what, it’s just a ‘pointer’-thing, that’s what we’ll call it, ”…Do this with me, yeah?”

“No, _Galahad.”_ And that was it.

Eggsy closed his eyes. _Merlin…_ If only _he_ was fuckin’ here right now.

_Fuck!_

Eggsy’s arm had spasmed, like someone stabbing him once under his right shoulder blade. But he hadn’t completely upset the game board. And now the pointer was situated on ‘YES’. Eggsy glanced around the room, then rubbed the back of his neck.

He whispered as quietly as he could: _“…M-Merlin -- is that you?”_

The pointer didn’t move. Still on ‘YES’.

Eh. Good enough. Eggsy shrugged to himself, scribbling Merlin’s name and a hasty checkmark next to it on the notepad.

He straightened the board up on the table and returned his fingers to the pointer, clenching his jaw in anticipation of the next bout of pain. _“Well, where the hell are ya, guv?”_

But it was only like a tingle this time. Eggsy closed his eyes to concentrate on the new sensation -- and the planchette started to move.

He opened his eyes as it paused on ‘H’ -- but it wasn’t for long. He scrambled to grab the pencil with his non-dominant hand and awkwardly scritch out that first letter, and the subsequent ones:

E…

A…

V…

E…

N.

 _“Aw, you’re fuckin’ joking now…”_ Eggsy shook his head. But the pointer resumed its action then:

A…

L…

M…

O…

S…

T.

Eggsy read the word over. _“ ‘Almost’?_ …Well, how about for realzies this time, Merlin --” He was getting a touch impatient with ghost-texting. And he’d forgot he was supposed to be whispering. “Where are you _really?”_

The pointer didn’t go far this time.

V…

W.

And it stopped.

 _“ ‘Vee. Dub.’?_ What’s that mean -- like, the Beetle?” Eggsy looked up from the paper, confusion knitting his brows… Which then creased further together, since he wasn’t expecting Harry to be standing right there, looking down at him.

“May I?” Harry held out a patient hand.

“Yeah, sure… Have a blast.” Eggsy tore off the paper and held it up between two fingers, like he was offering Harry cash, a tip or a bribe.

“Not your best choice of words.” Harry commented, retrieving the scribbled epistle and looking it over. Eggsy sunk back against the sofa, raising his hands slightly, palms up, and letting them fall back down -- a gesture of defeat, of _‘Well ain’t it a surprise, I fucked it up again’._

Harry quietly sat down, very close to Eggsy this time, though not enough to be touching him. He turned the sheet of Ouija results over and set it on Eggsy’s knee; the parchment was so thin that the writing could still be easily seen and deciphered, though it was of course in the reverse.

“ ‘Almost. Heaven’,” Harry articulated softly -- a slight lilt to the words as he spoke them -- whilst indicating the revised order of things with his forefinger. He continued on, moving now from the ‘W’ to the ‘V’: “West. Virginia.”

There was a pang of tightness in Eggsy’s chest. The last time he’d heard those words…

“Harry… I-I think Merlin’s just Rick-Rolled me from beyond the grave.” Eggsy swallowed, then tried to make an expression, like, weren’t this just such a funny fuckin’ joke, yeah?

He wasn’t succeeding; he looked like a wounded dog.

Harry tread forward carefully, in word and deed, “Perhaps we should face this head on, instead of delaying the inevitable.” He reached over and gingerly touched Eggsy’s hand.

Eggsy gasped in a sudden panic, unable to breathe; he was back in the thick of the Cambodian jungle, suffocating in his navy blue Kingsman kit. And a deep velvet voice was singing…

_“Blue Ridge Mountains…”_

Merlin.

Which meant that Eggsy was back. Back there. Back _then._

But how?

Snapping his head to his left, Eggsy targeted the source of the sound; at the same time, Merlin, 20 meters away, turned toward him and belted out through the brush, in dulcet stentorian tones:

_“Shenandoah River…”_

_Fuck._ Forget the _river_ _\--_ there was a fuckin’ _flood_ now threatening to spill out from Eggsy’s eyes. He couldn’t exactly see Poppy’s guards advancing on his wizard, what with all this fuckin’ saline -- and glasses not telling him a fuckin’ thing -- but Eggsy knew what was coming next. And he couldn’t fix it, couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop it now, just as he couldn’t then, and--

“It’s okay, Galahad. It’s just us now.” Merlin lowed, staring concernedly at him through the trees.

Eggsy froze. _What?_ He mouthed the word quite clearly.

“Just us.” Merlin repeated, and Eggsy saw Harry, in that crisp grey suit of his, emerge from the jungle to Merlin’s left and join him then. “Just Kingsman.”

The adrenaline in Eggsy’s veins started to subside just enough that he could better make sense of the situation he was in -- this wasn’t the tragedy that he had lived through once already, and it weren’t the memory of it -- all that was clear enough from the divergent circumstances… But, on top of that, the oppressive heat of the jungle and the relevant ambient noises of such -- well they were lacking as well.

So what the fuck was this, then?

In lieu of any answer, Eggsy instead got an instruction; Harry was stood directly in front of Merlin now, but quickly cast a glance aside to his distant ward -- his voice cutting through the copse, as shears through muslin:

“Eggsy, come.”

It was all he had to say.

Whilst Eggsy was preoccupied with bush-bashing ( _sans machete_ ) through the Gunter’s chain of dense over-and-undergrowth, Harry proceeded with a meticulous inspection of the finely tailored and fully canvassed jacket in situ before him -- two fingers plying the grain of the woollen fabric, smoothing strategic lines across the pinstriped material. Merlin carried on his insistent warbling, but it was now a quiet personal serenade just for Harry Hart.

_“Life is old there, older than the trees…”_

“ **Younger** ,” Harry was quick to interject with emphasis, before continuing the successive line in stoic performance, “-- than the mountains.” He reverently attended to the double-breasted suit’s buttons, utilising the few moments of quiet solicitude to engage his dear companion in wordless exchange.

“Aye,” Merlin husked out, one last meaningful look before Harry slipped around behind him, the suit now unfastened.

Eggsy finally arrived then, panting a bit, and Merlin resumed his John Denvering -- _“Blowing like a breeze…”_ \-- such a pleased fuckin’ look on his face, Eggsy had never seen before.

“It ain’t funny, Merlin…” Eggsy took advantage of Merlin’s exposed front line and simply crushed him with a hug. “We thought you’d popped it,” he mumbled into Merlin’s chest.

“I did.”

Eggsy faltered then, feeling Merlin’s strong fingers nestle into his hair, affectionately massaging the back of his head -- “…But you’re back with us, Merlin,” he protested -- ‘Cause it weren’t the kind of thing Merlin had ever done before; but now, with Merlin’s stolid heartbeat resonating against his lug, Eggsy had to wonder how long the both of them had maybe needed it.

Merlin expelled an extensive sigh before turning his head to exchange a glance with Harry. “No, Galahad,” he finally corrected, and Eggsy pulled away from the embrace then fully intending to question the rebuttal further -- but Merlin simply looked straight down at his Kingsman-issued Oxfords. “Haven’t figured a way to get off of it.”

The landmine, he meant. _Shit._ The same fuckin’ one that Eggsy’d…

“Well -- we’ll get you off! Me and Harry.” Eggsy vowed, earnest with guilt.

The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched into a sad sort of amused smile, “That’s all I can hope for, Galahad.”

Eggsy took a step back -- ‘cause landmine, and all -- and gaped at Harry in a panic. “We’ll sort this.” His voice cracked just a little, “Won’t we?”

“Mm.” Harry replied noncommittally.

But Eggsy wasn’t having anymore of this, Harry’s ambivalent bullshit. “We can’t just do nothing!” He lobbed in return.

Rather than striking back at the upstartish outburst, Harry removed his spectacles, and stared at the ground, whilst he wiped the one transparent lens with the elegant silk square from his breast pocket.

“Eggsy… I want you to consider,” Harry kept his tone level and patient, “That despite the myriad iterations that a man may explore in his life in order to arrive at the closest approximation to the truth of his own self and circumstances -- in the end, you will be laid bare all the same, and only a fool would deny himself the comforts integral to his corporeality.”

Eggsy tried to follow the lesson, “So, sorta the opposite of ‘ghosts of things we could’ve been’… like,” he was grasping, “--‘the final result is what we always were’, then…”

Harry gave a nod and reinstated his glasses. “Though it may seem that an exceptional man of extraordinary technical expertise -- as our Merlin -- _should_ be wanting of whatever pleasurable complexities there are left, of the very few that he has yet to obtain in life --”

Merlin gave a little cough, a bashful smile behind it, “What he means t’ say, Eggsy -- is that I’m but a simple man, when it comes down to it…”

“And it shows…” Harry agreed, sidling in closer behind Merlin then, “Especially when it comes to where your heart is.” Harry’s right hand slipped around across Merlin’s waist ‘til it lay underneath the jacket’s left front flap. Merlin’s eyes closed reflexively; Eggsy’s widened, watching the bulge of Harry’s hand slide up leisurely but deliberately towards Merlin’s shoulder. At the same time, Harry’s left hand traced its way along the outside of the jacket’s sleeve, from shoulder down to cuff. Thence, in one fluid coordinated movement, Harry pushed the suit jacket over past Merlin’s left shoulder and tugged the cuff down, off, and away from his mortal mannequin.

As Harry repositioned to grip the jacket at mid-collar and by the right-hand cuff this time, Merlin’s freed left hand furtively eased into its corresponding trouser pocket, and Eggsy started to realise that maybe there was something more than ‘nothing’ happening here.

“Perhaps it’s a bit unfair,” Harry renewed their discourse, “That I know exactly what is expected of me; but, Eggsy, all you must decide is how true a man to your word you wish to be.” Another crisp manoeuvre and Harry had Merlin adroitly de-frocked. “When you said you’d do _anything_ \-- did you mean it?”

Eggsy wasn’t sure how to answer that; but honestly, he wasn’t even sure of where to look: at the newly-divested monolith in front of him -- or over where Harry had flourished away Merlin’s coat, and was busying himself in shaking out its invisible creases before folding and smoothing it flat.

As Harry paused to determine the least feculent spot of faux jungle floor on which to place the garment, he could tell without a glance that Eggsy was standing idly by. He cleared his throat. “Are you here to help, Eggsy -- or not?”

Merlin’s eyes flitted open, and a little knowing smirk developed on his lips. He commandeered Eggsy’s gaze with his own, then helpfully cast his eyes down at his necktie.

“Right, yeah.” Eggsy declared to both men, pretending his best to be confident despite feeling like all he was doing was just interfering in like some sacred ancient ritual that he had no right being involved in in the first place. He squared his shoulders and strode one step forward into Merlin’s personal space, reaching his right hand up to hook his forefinger behind the knot and jerk it loose.

But Harry’s hand came ‘round and caught Eggsy’s, well before he could do any such damage.

 _“Manners_ , Eggsy,” he chided, and Eggsy dropped his apparently deficient appendage down to his side. Harry’s digits, on the other hand, slipped under Merlin’s spread collar with a surprising delicacy (and moreso, a tenderness), splaying the structured fabric upward to facilitate access to the burdening tie. “Respect for his wares, is respect for the man.”

“You wanted to tell him how much you love him,” Harry reminded his ward, continuing on; he set a firm and practised hand flat against Merlin’s neck, pinning down the navy blue and striped silk, whilst his free hand found the tight Half Windsor knot snugged at Merlin’s throat. “You say it with _respect.”_

An involuntary shiver briefly betrayed Merlin’s composure as Harry’s words and breath fleetingly swept across his nape. Harry acknowledged the slight infraction by allowing himself a negligible caress along Merlin’s jawline with his thumb adjacent.

Eggsy swallowed. “How much _we_ love him,” he corrected his mentor.

Merlin smiled warmly.

“…Yes,” Harry concurred simply, then he dragged Merlin’s tie open so it pulled only against itself and his own hand, causing no discomfort to the man wearing it. He studied Eggsy for a moment, his hand withdrawing from the neckline to disappear down along Merlin’s back. “…I think you’ve about got it.”

Harry turned away, primly rolling the necktie up to deposit it with the jacket. _“Buttons,_ Eggsy,” he rumbled out the command over his shoulder.

Eggsy jolted into action. “I’ll, uh, try to do it right, guv…” He mumbled, as much to Merlin as to himself.

“Don’t fuss it,” Merlin mused quietly, lifting his chin to aid Eggsy’s approach to the button astride his throat. “You know, he was just as nervous his first time at it.” Merlin’s eyes shut again, whilst Eggsy fumbled with the button, tactless fingers blissfully grazing against two-day stubble.

There weren’t anything about sex that got Eggsy nervy; he weren’t slack at that. But -- it was all the doing things proper, tryna  keep up with whatever secret rules Harry and Merlin seemed to be testing him on, and figuring out where he fit into this new dynamic. He knew where he stood with Harry Hart. It hadn’t occurred to him that they could -- or would -- or should include Merlin into the mix. But as he worked the first button off and watched Merlin’s Adam’s apple languidly quiver up and down, Eggsy got the feeling like he really should’ve been paying more attention.

Well, might as well make up for it now -- better late than never, bruv.

The next button gave way, revealing the slight ridge of an old collarbone injury, healed over on its own. And the next started to give him the defined edges of Merlin’s pecs. Apparently, Merlin was fuckin’ _fit_ underneath all those soft grandad jumpers he was usually sporting.

Eggsy gingerly moved on to the next button. It was all gettin’ a bit intoxicating, studying the man this closely.

Harry returned then and simply hissed at Eggsy. “ _Chrissake_ … You’re allowed to _touch him.”_

Eggsy’s brows furrowed, “I just… _“Manners”_ an’ all…”

“Which means _nothing_ if you’re neglecting what the man _wants_ …” Harry’s left hand delved into the pocket with Merlin’s for a moment. “-- What he _needs_ , hm?” He pulled Merlin’s profane limb into an unforgiving armlock. “You weren’t told to handle yourself, Merlin.”

“No, Arthur…” Merlin assented dutifully -- merely looking happily guilty -- and only mildly in pain from the strict handhold behind his back.

Eggsy didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Harry -- Arthur, was it now? -- growled at him to _“Continue on.”_ Eggsy nodded ardently, but hesitated all the same.

“He won’t break, Eggsy.” Harry assured him (which sounded to Eggsy as though he’d attempted to test that assertion on several occasions before), and reiterated the fact by harshly uncoupling the rose gold insignia cufflink on Merlin’s delinquent wrist, then proceeding roughly to the other.

Eggsy quickly pulled open the next button down -- oh look, Merlin was just one-hundred-percent made up of taut, smooth abdominals, _the fuck_ \-- and the next button -- more of the fuckin’ same, only interrupted by the divot of his navel and a sparse but thickening happy little trail of hair that headed southward. Now he’d reached Merlin’s trouser waist, but there was one last shirt button left in the fray below it.

While considering whether to pull the crisp white cotton untucked to get at it, his thumbs spread the loosed fabric toward its limits, discovering the deep gnarled scar on Merlin’s lower abdomen. It weren’t pretty; like it’d been an emergency bodge to some nearly lethal field injury -- a trauma that had festered and infected a few times, never healing proper-like for years, ‘til it finally gave up its graft, warping and knotting itself closed of its own accord.

“Best not risk popping that last one off.” Merlin advised, bringing Eggsy’s attention back to the catch, a cheeky smile returning to his lips. “Not just yet anyway.”

A fleeting wave of heat flushed Eggsy’s face, but luckily Harry interrupted with fists -- finished with cuffs -- gracing around Merlin’s hips, to unbuckle the emblem from the genuine leather at his waist. It was steady and methodical labour again, just as the tie; no deliberate provocation engendered by it; but as Harry disappeared with the belt and cufflinks, and Eggsy’s gaze was still trained near Merlin’s abs, it was pretty abundant that the effort had a priming effect all the same. Poor belt was obviously just a formality, Eggsy thought. ‘Cause Merlin was _packing_ . An’ his made-to-measure trou weren’t about to fall off of _that_ on their own.

Eggsy needn’t any prompting this time; his fingers shoved right down inside Merlin’s waistband, knuckles ridging over his erection while en route to get at his trouser buttons. Even through the bit of remaining starchy shirting fabric what separated him from Merlin’s cock, Eggsy could feel him harden. Merlin made such a small needful sound, unable to help it. Eggsy swallowed thickly.

Carefully and gently unfastening the waistband, Eggsy then slid his hand down to cast open the zip, intentionally stroking down along the rigid curve of Merlin’s cock at the same time.

Merlin huffed out an aching sigh, pulsing against Eggsy’s touch. “You’ll get us both in trouble…”

“I think that’s where we both like to be, Merlin.” Eggsy grinned slowly, eyes darting to Harry as the man rejoined them -- Harry had taken the opportunity to remove his own jacket and roll his sleeves up. Upon assessing the current state of affairs, he simply nodded to Eggsy to carry on.

Eggsy proceeded without question, taking Merlin’s fitted trousers down slowly -- unable to keep from settling eyes on anything except that very conspicuous patch of wet near the last button of Merlin’s shirt. That is, ‘til he got the trousers down far enough to realise Merlin was acting a true Scotsman. Nothing on below deck at all, until Eggsy and the trousers met with his argyle socks.

Whilst Eggsy went down on one knee in reverence, Harry assumed authority of pushing Merlin’s last button; he released the catch, liberating Merlin to full sail, but as his fingers approached the lower hemline of the 200-thread Egyptian cotton-twill, Harry seemed rather more concerned with the proof than overly impressed with the pudding. He held the evidential material out for Merlin’s concurrent inspection, a tut of chagrin out of his mouth already regarding the mess.

“Not the first we’ve sent off t’ the cleaners like that…” Merlin was prosaic in his report to Harry,  but he winked at Eggsy, more varlet than knight -- guilty again, aye, but no tail ‘tween his legs.

“No, it’s not.” Harry conceded. And no one dared discuss whether it would be the last. So he let the matter drop, and instead, he picked up a trail along the open edges of Merlin’s shirt, fingers skirting across the delineations of his musculature.

The contact had Merlin thrumming again, _“Country roads…”_ \-- the euphony streaming from his mouth as Harry’s hands retreated from under his arms -- _“Take me home…”_ \-- and coaxed his last vestige of courtliness away, taking the decorum by the collar and simply stripping it off. (A bandage no longer needed.)

Whilst Harry removed the shirt to join the other sloughed Kingsman attire -- Merlin crooning after him, _“To the place I belong…”_ \-- Eggsy concentrated on the random patterns in the fleecey hairs covering Merlin’s solid thighs, wending down brawny calves, legs all the way to the floor; almost like he were afraid to look at the man now that he was fully stark.

 _“West Virginia,”_ Merlin returned his attention to Eggsy, fingers brushing through his fawny shag, _“Mountain mama…”_ It was still a gesture full of affection -- but the proximity of Eggsy’s face now to Merlin’s definitively erect cock -- well, that changed the connotations of it somewhat, didn’it?

Maybe Eggsy was a bit anxious after all. It was pretty clear to him that Merlin and Harry were… well, obviously something more than best-bruv workmates -- and been it for some time. Maybe even while Harry and himself… And he and Harry _hadn’t_ much lately; but that weren’t really _his_ fault -- it was mostly ‘cause of this whole thing with Merlin dy-- and it was all going circles now.

Eggsy took a calming breath; clear his head. Not sure if it helped, with Merlin’s caresses still in full force, distracting him back to the present moment. What was he supposed to do? It weren’t going to fix anything between him and Harry… Or would it?

He said he’d do _anything_ . For _Merlin_ . But weren’t it the same for _Harry?_

‘Course it was.

And a Kingsman were always a man of his word.

So, he’d, uh, _help_ Merlin then, _for Harry._ If that made sense. But while he was still unsure of that logic, Eggsy filled the gap by rooting around for the laces of Merlin’s oxfords-not-brogues, which were somewhere under the heap of his trousers.

“Forget the shoes, Galahad,” Merlin tried to suppress a smile, “Not much priority from where I’m standing.” But as Eggsy continued to look a lost sheep, Merlin hummed out: _“Take me home…”_ The words were a suggestion now.

Eggsy leant forward, bracing a hand around back of Merlin’s thigh. He felt Harry return then and press himself up behind Merlin, not an inch left to spare for the Holy fuckin’ Ghost -- and Merlin then purred out one last _“Country roads…”_ to him; Eggsy realising now it was an endearment.

Harry was Merlin’s old familiar road home; and he wasted no time now in wrapping a possessive protective arm low around Merlin, fingers poised lightly near the aberrant scar on his abdomen.

Eggsy knew in the instant that Harry’s fingers made contact with that scar; Merlin’s entire body tensed, like he’d got an electric shock. And a painful one, at that. Eggsy stared as their wizard trembled through the moment: Merlin’s eyelids were crinkled, shut fast, his jaw set rigid, and a defensive hand staying Harry’s in dispute.

_All my memories…_

“Hamish…” Harry breathed, pleading directly into Merlin’s ear, “It’s _alright_ , Hamish… We won’t.” Harry was quick to soothe, lips now upon the salty perspiration of Merlin’s neck, just behind his ear, another urgent whisper, _“We won’t…”_

But what they wouldn’t, Eggsy had no fuckin’ clue.

_Gather round her…_

Eggsy, still settled on one knee, could only watch -- as a generous new bead of pre-cum leaked eagerly from Merlin’s glans now; Harry’s free hand slipping down, massaging into the groove of Merlin’s groin quite firmly. Harry cleared his throat huskily, “Are you helping, Eggsy, or not?”

_Miner's lady…_

Yeah, _natch._ Eggsy gave a diligent nod, testing the waters by pressing his mouth to the thick of Merlin’s inner thigh, teeth grazing gently, nipping not-so-gently, over bristly hair, sinewy muscle, whatever he could find. And he could feel his groomed coif catch and teasing against Merlin’s balls. He reached up to stroke their weight down; Merlin moaned, but it weren’t a complaint.

_Stranger to blue water…_

Eggsy’s fingers went further then, curling up around Merlin’s shaft. His lips broke from Merlin’s skin and he brought the man down to meet them. Whilst Merlin’s eyes closed on reflex, Harry watched over shoulder and down bare torso, to witness Merlin’s girth entering Eggsy’s mouth.

“There’s a good lad,” Harry murmured, his fingers ambling down to Merlin’s scrotum now to take up the mantle of duty there from Eggsy -- who was currently a bit more concerned about guiding the heady plunge of Merlin’s avid cock into and out of his mouth.

Eggsy’s other hand, groping the back of Merlin’s thigh, changed tack and sought out his arse -- quickly meeting some serious resistance where Harry’s trousers were already pressed up tight.

He settled for a gluteal handful instead and spread Merlin’s cleft enough for Harry to frott himself more comfortably up into his niche, him and Merlin both huffing out some wordless obscenities of pleasure then. It was getting Merlin dead close already; his hand dropped away from Eggsy’s locks, directly to the base of his own cock, making a tight ring ‘round with thumb and forefinger. Eggsy reeled as Merlin pulled out past his sodden lips, staggering at how much stiffer that cock felt in his mouth with a bit of crimp on it there.

Cock reined with one hand, Merlin pulled his glasses off with his other and swiped the back of his hand over the perspiration dotting his forehead. He marvelled down at Eggsy and that keen pout of his.

“…D’you think…” Merlin hesitated, though he was unquestionably ready for more, “Think y’could wear it for me… Eggsy, love…”

Eggsy blinked once, and then again for good measure.

‘Cause -- had he heard that right? -- ‘cause -- fuckin’ _absolutely._

“Yeah,” Eggsy swallowed. “It would be my _pleasure_ , Merlin.”

Merlin put his glasses back on, casting a glance at Harry.

Harry gave a single nod. “Come home, Hamish.”

Merlin went straight to work then, delivering himself long, full strokes, already slickly covered in Eggsy’s saliva -- with his balls firmly in Harry’s hand and his knob penetrating in and out of his grip, each time bringing himself closer to the brink. Eggsy winced back slightly, anticipating the coming cascade -- but alright, he still cracked an eye open a bit anyway ‘cause he weren’t really about to complain over _that sight_ being etched in his memory for the rest of fuckin’ eternity.

_Dark and dusty…_

“I said, _‘Come,’_ Hamish.” Harry growled in command -- instinct bucking his hips, a physical order to match the verbal directive. Eggsy subconsciously licked his lips -- as Harry insisted _“Now.”_ \-- and Merlin’s breath hitched in his chest.

“Ah, god -- _Galahad.”_ Merlin grasped Eggsy’s hair, and did his best to aim at Eggsy’s parted lips.

_Painted on the sky…_

All at once, Merlin’s semen came in short hot spurts -- all over Eggsy’s glasses -- and again -- and across his nose -- on his cheek -- lips -- chin -- lips again. And then what else Merlin could manage simply welled up on the tip of his cock, running over, along the underside of his shaft as his chest heaved, like he’d just finished the London marathon.

_Misty taste of moonshine…_

Eggsy’s eyes were wide with watching, taking it all in, whilst Merlin’s ejaculate dribbled down his face, seeping into the corners of his mouth, swirling with his own saliva and coating his tongue.

Eggsy gave him a timid smile. “Looking good, Merlin.”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. It went without saying how he was feeling.

_Teardrop in my eye…_

He stroked a finger under Eggsy’s chin before sinking back against Harry, absolutely knackered.

“Looking rather quid, I should think…” Harry murmured warmly into Merlin’s ear, supporting the weight of the man, leaning toward repose. It certainly wasn’t a complaint.

Eggsy took off his still-coated glasses, quirking a brow at Harry. _Quid?_

But it was Merlin who answered Eggsy’s unasked question.

“ _‘Spent’_ ,” Merlin explained, with a drowsy, content smile. “Well spent.” His thumb traced along Harry’s hand, still on guard at his testes and soon to be joined by his flagging member.

“You did well making it this far.” Harry surrendered his claim over Merlin’s scarred abdomen and moved to rub Merlin’s chest, having noted the mild tremors starting to plague the limb stationed still atop the explosive device. “Now stop fighting it, Hamish…”

“Arthur,” Merlin pleaded wearily, “Don’t make me go back there alone…”

_Country roads, take me home…_

“Merlin…?” Eggsy stood up quickly, pushing Harry for exposition, “Where’s he going?”

Harry opened his mouth, but closed it again with a sigh.

_To the place I belong…_

_Fuck._ Merlin was dying again, weren’t he?

“…H-heaven?” Eggsy suggested.

_West Virginia, mountain mama…_

“Almost.” Merlin did his best to give Eggsy one last smile, but it was riddled with pain. “…Home, Eggsy. ‘m headed home.”

_Take me home, country roads…_

Eggsy’s eyes widened with panic. He reached out to grab hold of Merlin -- something, anything -- but Harry intercepted his hand. “No, _Galahad.”_ And that was it.

Eggsy woke with a start; he was slumped on the sofa in the flat, right where he’d left himself. Harry was there beside him, one hand entwined with Eggsy’s, the other tipping back one last mouthful of whisky -- a real vintage this time.

Was it his second or third, fourth, fifth tumbler -- or just how long exactly had Eggsy been out?

 _“Fuck_ was…” Eggsy rubbed his face and tried to sit up proper. “Fuck was _that_ …?”

Harry was quiet for a long moment, as though he hadn’t heard the question. Finally swallowing the dram in his mouth, he professed, “We’ve taken the habit of calling it ‘West Virginia’.”

Eggsy blinked, considering that and everything Harry Hart weren’t saying. “And Merlin, he’s…”

“A Kingsman never dies.” Harry relinquished his grip from Eggsy’s, standing up and offering him a handkerchief. “Now, wipe your chin… You’re dribbling.”

While Eggsy did as he was told -- bit of a funny taste in his mouth anyway, bruv -- he noticed the Ouija board had been all tidied up, returned to its box. The rest of the room, too, had been put to rights. The only thing out of place -- as in, wasn’t been there before -- was a neatly piled stack of clothes on the writing desk in the corner.

“…Harry…” Eggsy coughed.

“Mm?” Harry stopped, halfway back to the kitchen.

“What is…” Eggsy contemplatively licked his bottom lip; there was definitely a man’s white shirt on top of the pile. “…Harry, that looks a helluva lot like… well…”

Harry’s gaze flickered over to the garments. “…I have a few things to drop at the cleaners on the way to King’s Cross in the morning.”

“King’s Cross?” Eggsy’s brows furrowed. “…You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” Harry answered simply, then added, “Taking you with me, of course.”

Eggsy exhaled, for lack of anything better to say. His head was killin’ him.

“We’ll head North,” Harry explained, “I’ve been putting it off far too long, and it’s time we got our feet back under us.”

“What’s up north?” Eggsy’s brows furrowed; he’d missed something.

“Scotland.” Harry answered, as though it were plainly obvious.

“Yeah -- but what’s in Scotland, Harry?”

“Kingsman’s new home.”

Eggsy stared at him.

“Now come to bed, Eggsy. I won’t tell you twice.”


End file.
